


A Secret Poison

by Rainbow_Volcano



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Bickering, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Poison, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Sacrifice, Sad, Secrets, bit of a character study, but also kinda fluffy, deathbed confessions, surprisingly soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-17 13:00:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28974765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_Volcano/pseuds/Rainbow_Volcano
Summary: Ferdinand leaps in the way of a poisoned dart that was heading for Hubert. What he doesn't know is that Hubert is immune and would have been fine if Ferdinand had just let him get hit. Now Hubert watches Ferdinand grappling with the poison and struggle for life.(Alt title: Hubert keeps a secret for too long and now it could literally kill his crush whoopsie)(Alt alt title: Ferdinand and Hubert are and continue to be really, really dumb)
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	A Secret Poison

Hubert was never _excited_ for battle, but he had to admit, the anticipation from this one was beginning to infect him.

It was a minor one, the professor had requested only a handful of the Strike Force for this. It was more for training and bullion-nabbing than true progress towards the war effort. But that meant Hubert could test out his latest weapon.

Common darts, dipped completely in one of his favorite poisons.

Priscellius letalium, or Priscellium as Hubert had coined, was a vicious poison that acted immediately. It worked its way through the blood, thinning it, convincing your bones you didn’t need to make any more of it. It turned its victims pale upon entry, then limited muscular movement, until moving on to vital organs like the lungs and eventually brain, until your heart had nothing left to pump. It was lethal within hours, and a deterrent within minutes.

The antidote, made from priscellium-infected blood, took hours to set properly. And once it was settled and potent, it was even more violent than the poison itself. It had the side effect of erasing the patient’s memories—everything that had happened after the moment the poison entered their veins.

Needless to say, it was infatuatingly attractive to spies. Administer it, interrogate your victim, then administer the antidote. Information gained without them or their lord ever being the wiser. And if it turned out they were safer left dead, as Hubert often found, he could simply withhold the antidote and walk away.

Priscellium’s one drawback was its incurable stench, and vile flavor. Before now, Hubert had only known of oral ways to administer it, adding it to foods and drinks. It was obviously poison; there was no way for it to be discreet. The victims would forget everything after tasting it, but they would still remember tasting it, and know that they had been poisoned. And its stench was rather distinct, so it was likely they’d known what they’d been poisoned with. Which rendered the antidote’s handy benefit somewhat worthless.

So Hubert had devised a new weapon: darts. They would still know what they’d been poisoned _with_ , but not _who_ had poisoned them. Hopefully with a bit more testing and fine-tuning, he could muddle the timing of the entry of the dart as well, and perhaps even the location. His ultimate ambition was to make the dart untraceable.

He brought along three darts, more prototypes than anything else. He would study the moment they entered the flesh, and how much the victims noticed. Then he could monitor how quickly the poison acted; injecting into the bloodstream should serve much swifter than waiting for it to be digested.

They marched quietly through the forest, the target town some hundred paces ahead. Hubert, Edelgard, Ferdinand, and Professor Byleth kept close as they walked. Ferdinand was discussing some trivial matter with Edelgard, though she seemed to be entertaining him, and the professor was taking inventory of their provisions once more as an extra precaution.

Hubert had started the walk regarding Edelgard, searching for signs in her face that Ferdinand was growing over-tedious, but he never found any. Soon enough he found his attention drawn to Ferdinand. The way he spoke brightly with large, animated gestures. The way his hair liked to steal sunlight through gaps in the trees. The way his eyes mirrored the sun.

Thoughts like these had been distracting Hubert for the better part of the war. They distracted him as he watched Ferdinand’s hair grow longer past his shoulders, as Ferdinand sipped tea with him in cheerier afternoons, as he fell asleep sitting up at various meeting tables and desks. Ferdinand distracted him so often these days.

Ferdinand glanced to him suddenly, shining the light of the sun onto him. He smiled, in a way that shook Hubert’s heart, and he ducked his head. Ferdinand was always _distracting_ him, keeping him from important matters. Even now, Hubert should have been devising more of the logistics of his prototype, but instead Ferdinand was filling up his thoughts.

Hubert sighed, and brought a hand to the satchel holding his darts, hidden underneath his mages’ robes. He was immune to priscellium, of course, he never used a poison as a weapon until it couldn’t be used against him. It had taken the better part of a year for his body to adjust to it, but adjust it had, and now he could stomach it better than alcohol. He should be focusing on research notes, on angles the enemy could approach from, on probable escape routes, and not on Ferdinand von Aegir.

Hubert’s eyes were down as he thought, forcing himself to consider the poison. He had brought along a half-dosage of the antidote, in an abundance of caution. He wasn’t going to need it, but having three or four fail-safes was prudent for the Emperor’s vassal, especially during war time.

Lost in his thoughts, Hubert didn’t notice the shifting in the woods behind them until it was too late.

He looked up suddenly, only to be struck with a fire blast. He yelped, his companions whipping their heads around in time to see him take the hit. It barely hurt at all, but it did send him flying back away from his group.

“Ambush!” Edelgard cried. They each drew their weapons and began their counterattack.

Hubert groaned, then lifted himself to his feet. He was the only long-ranged specialist of the group, so he readied a Dark Spikes before knowing precisely where he was aiming. As he muttered the words of the spell, he reached for his secret weapon.

It was gone.

He looked, but couldn’t find the satchel. _Damn it._

The thieves were craftier than he gave them credit for. How had one snuck close enough to pilfer the satchel without Hubert’s notice? He couldn’t have gotten far…

He saw a miniscule shift in the bushes, then aimed his spell at it. The bush’s leaves withered away, exposing the thief’s hiding spot. _Got you now,_ Hubert thought.

He began muttering the words for a Miasma spell as the thief dumped the darts to the ground. He sniffed one, recoiled fiercely, then seemed to smirk. Hubert smirked back. _Please._

But before the thief behind the bush could fire, another one leapt at him from behind. Hubert narrowly dodged, turning to face his new threat, and released the spell at him instead. The purple fog cursed at his flesh as he withered at the ground. Hubert breathed a sigh of relief.

“Hubert, behind you!” came a cry. Hubert knew, of course. That’s where the darts were. He needed a moment to catch his breath, his back still facing the darts. The sharp tip would prick his skin, but he braced himself for the impact.

He heard another cry, closer, shouting, “Hubert!” and it drew his attention. Ferdinand, left shoulder plate shattered and crumbling away, hair chasing the wind as he raced in atop his horse.

“No!” Hubert screamed. “Ferdinand, stop!”

But it was too late.

Ferdinand’s exposed left shoulder took the dart neatly, as if it were the intended target all along. Hubert stared in horror as Ferdinand stumbled off his mount and crashed to the dirt, clenching his left arm.

Anger rushed into his veins. He readied a spell and cast it with such clear precision that the thief collapsed into the bushes.

Hubert rushed to Ferdinand’s side. There were more bandits, but this took precedence. He knelt down and rolled Ferdinand’s chest onto his knee, cradling the back of his head.

“Hubert, tell me you’re all right,” Ferdinand mumbled. Hubert cursed under his breath.

“Drink this,” he ordered, stuffing the antidote into Ferdinand’s mouth. He complied, and instantly his complexion improved. Hubert shuddered a sigh of relief, then looked up again.

There was another bandit approaching for the satchel, but Hubert was swift. He dove for the darts the same time the thief did, each grabbing one of the remaining two. The thief plunged his into Hubert’s arm, and he swallowed a flinch before plunging the final one into the last thief.

The thief collapsed to the ground, Hubert stumbled to his feet. Panting heavily, he plucked the dart from his arm and gathered his empty bag. Hubert grit his teeth. These were no mere bandits. They were clever. They knew who to target, they knew Hubert was carrying dangerous cargo. They must have been employed by someone with great cunning and no remorse. Someone like Arundel.

Ferdinand let out a groan, and Hubert’s musings ceased. He stepped over the sputtering bandit, and rushed to Ferdinand once more. “Professor!” Hubert shouted. “Professor, quickly!”

Ferdinand shifted in Hubert’s arms, and he swallowed uneasily. He’d never administered a half-dosage before. Would it be enough? He was remarkably pale already, blood draining from his face.

“You imbecile!” Hubert shouted. Ferdinand flinched in his arms. “What were you thinking?”

“Forgive me for trying to protect my friend,” Ferdinand returned, his brow and eyes angered.

“They planned this! You fell into their trap! How could you have been so gullible and brainless?”

“Of course it was a trap! But I could not simply let you get pierced by poison daggers!”

“I am immune!”

“You…immune?”

“I created those, of course I’m immune! You don’t think I would have been so foolish as to have come unprepared?”

“Damn it,” Ferdinand muttered. “I really dove in for nothing, then.”

“Less than nothing!” Hubert shouted. His anger was pushing out other parts of him, parts like grief and panic and guilt. “You are incurably arrogant, and now you might be incurable!”

“Perhaps if you had _told me_ that you were immune, this would not have happened! You have been nursing that secret satchel for a month now, surely you could have mentioned its contents at some point? _You’re_ the one who is incurably arrogant!”

Byleth had arrived at some point during their bickering, but Hubert didn’t notice until Ferdinand’s shoulder began to glow a gentle white. He looked up and saw the professor kneeling over Ferdinand, a sweat breaking across their brow.

The dart fell out of Ferdinand, but his complexion did not brighten.

“How do you feel?” the professor asked. Ferdinand shook his head.

“A bit dizzy. Terribly dizzy. I believe I may fall…” Ferdinand closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the color had drained from sunny to sickly. “Oh, Hubert. I see you have already caught me. How gallant.”

Hubert shook his head. Disorientation was not a normal side effect. It must have come about because of the half-dosage Ferdinand drank. That, or the poison was more swift and potent than he’d feared.

Ferdinand reached up a hand weakly, and Hubert caught it in his. “You’re safe?” Ferdinand muttered. Hubert nodded. “Is everyone else?”

Hubert looked up and saw Edelgard approaching, untouched. “I interrogated the final thief, but he perished before giving any useful information,” she informed. Hubert cursed. His prototypes were completely wasted, the experiment completely failed, and they didn’t even obtain any information for it.

Worst of all, Ferdinand was dying.

“What happened?” Edelgard asked, leaning down to Ferdinand.

“Hubert poisoned me,” Ferdinand joked, aiming a smirk up at Hubert. It caught in his heart.

“This is no time for jests,” Hubert chided.

“He’s right,” the professor said. “Ferdinand, I can’t heal you.”

Hubert felt his heart sink to the pit of his stomach. “Hubert, warp him back to the monastery,” Edelgard ordered. “Linhardt and Manuela may be able to help. I’ll take care of everything here.”

“Brace yourself,” he whispered to Ferdinand. Ferdinand’s free hand gripped at Hubert’s chest.

They arrived at the infirmary, startling Manuela. Hubert briefly explained, then rushed off to begin preparing a full dosage of the antidote.

* * *

After hours of fretting by Ferdinand’s unconscious body, Hubert finally dozed into a light sleep. His head nodded against his chest as he slouched in the chair next to Ferdinand’s bed in the infirmary.

Hubert was slow to sleep, only managing it out of sheer exhaustion. The antidote required several hours to make, needing time for the chemicals to set before they would be effective, so there was nothing more he could do. If he were pious, he could have prayed, but even one as allergic to sleep as he found it preferable to such a wasteful pastime. And so, slept he did.

As he slept, Linhardt and Manuela wandered in several times, keeping Ferdinand’s symptoms at bay. At Hubert’s instruction, they had induced a coma, hoping to slow the poison. They had been at it for several hours, so long that the sun from the afternoon dwindled into twilight, before disappearing into the night. With no one else in the room, the stars kept Hubert and Ferdinand company as they suffered in silence.

When Hubert awoke again, the moon was just high enough to peek in through the infirmary windows. It cleansed the floors in a gentle light, willing them to remain calm. Something Hubert had always fancied himself skilled at, until today at least.

Hubert hated the guilt that crept up in him. It wasn’t his fault. It _wasn’t_. Yet he couldn’t help feeling responsible. He thought he had prepared for every outcome. He’d even brought a half-dosage of the antidote, expecting it to be overkill. But it still wasn’t enough. He had been so caught up in his thoughts, so distracted, that he’d let themselves be ambushed. It was torturous, being able to do nothing except sit and wait, and wait and sit.

He watched Ferdinand, sleeping fitfully with harsh breaths. Even in his sleep, his fists were clenched. He was past the fourth stage, then. The only thing that could cure him now was a full dosage of the antidote. If he didn’t receive it, he would be dead before dawn. Perhaps sooner.

Ferdinand rolled on his side, facing Hubert. Ferdinand’s hair soaked up droplets of moonlight, sparking the bed into a smoldering ember. His face was drenched with sweat, pale and pained. His hands, usually gloved, were exposed and pulsing with his rasping breaths.

Hubert produced his handkerchief, and dabbed off bits of sweat from Ferdinand’s face. The droplets would only serve to make his shivering worse. It wasn’t much, but it would be at least another six hours before the antidote would be ready, and he had to do everything he could.

It was funny. There was a time Hubert would have longed to see this exact expression on Ferdinand’s face: the creased lines, the tense eyebrows, the fear and pain etched into his skin. Five years ago, he’d have taken delight in the fact that he had done this. Naturally, however, the world was cruel and unfair. He finally got to see such a wretched sight, now that it would no longer bring him satisfaction.

As he wiped, Ferdinand’s eyelashes twitched. They were light and long, the color of honey, and Hubert stalled his hand, afraid he’d disturbed him. (Another irony; long ago he’d _wanted_ to disturb Ferdinand). Ferdinand’s eyelashes fluttered open.

Hubert stared at him, so fragile and weak. Ferdinand’s eyes held only half-lucidity, mostly glazed and hazy in the moonlight. It was wrong to see such bright eyes outdone by a sliver of the moon.

“Hubert?” he whispered. The effort conjured a cough, and Hubert pressed him into the bed.

“Hush. I’ll call Linhardt. He’ll set you back to sleep,” Hubert said, hand on Ferdinand’s shoulder.

“Wait,” Ferdinand said, grabbing Hubert’s wrist. “Water…”

Hubert reached for the pitcher at the bedside and hastily poured a glass. He helped Ferdinand drink it, holding the bottom steadily while Ferdinand’s shaky hands cupped the sides. They repeated the process thrice more, draining the pitcher. With each cup, Ferdinand’s hands grew steadier and steadier.

Once he was finished, he sighed and sat back in the bed. Hubert set the pitcher and cup back on table, and massaged at a sore spot in his neck. His prize for sleeping upright.

“Have you been here this whole time?” Ferdinand asked.

Hubert sighed, almost in a chuckle. “I’m afraid so. A whole day, wasted. If you do not recover soon, I shall have to plan our next battle from the infirmary.”

Ferdinand shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“A contraction? You’re sicker than I thought.”

Ferdinand rolled his eyes, and Hubert was relieved to see a bit of the color back in them. If it would snatch Ferdinand from Death’s grip, Hubert would tease and insult him until his mouth went numb. “I am not immune to contractions.”

“As you are also not immune to Priscellium.”

“Have we not already discussed this? Heavens, Hubert, you are difficult. You can’t resist needling me even when I am so ill?”

Hubert laughed, and moved his hand to brush aside Ferdinand’s bangs. “Needling you calms me. I’m glad you awoke so I could get in a few jabs.”

Ferdinand’s smile was admonishing; Hubert could imagine him shaking his head if he weren’t so ill. “The thing I do not understand is why you have spent so much time here. Did you not say there was nothing more to be done?”

Hubert sighed, and pulled his hand away. He walked to the window, and gazed out at the night sky above the Ohgma mountains. “I did say that. And it is true. And it is also true that you are the one who brought yourself into this situation, with your short-sightedness and your idiocy.”

“I was attempting to be heroic,” Ferdinand replied, a bit of a laugh in him. He tilted his head up at the ceiling, and pulled him arms out from under the blankets. He was beginning to feel horridly hot.

“Well, don’t. It nearly got you killed.”

Ferdinand groaned. “Have I not already learned my lesson?” He gestured to his body, withering in the bed, and a cough came out of him for good measure.

Hubert looked at Ferdinand, orange hair spilling out around the bed in every direction, and said, “I told you, needling you calms me.” He then sighed, and shook his head, turning back towards the window. “Besides, hindsight is no substitute for proper foresight. Will you jump in front of every poison that heads our way? Will you continue to ignore your allies in battle to serve your own ego?”

“If you had simply told me, I would not have jumped in! I was trying to protect you.” Hubert scoffed. Was he some sort of helpless maiden in need of defending? Ferdinand’s hero-complex may well be the death of him. “In that moment I saw the darts flying, I pictured…” Ferdinand trailed off. Hubert waited for him to continue, finding his breath baited. “…I pictured you, in this very bed. That thought, it…it terrified me.”

Hubert looked over to Ferdinand again, and caught his eyes. They were fully lucid now, though still dulled from the poison.

“Good,” Hubert said. “Then you can understand how I am feeling.”

Ferdinand’s eyes widened, suddenly connecting the pieces. Hubert had revealed his hand, shown that this whole time his needling and his blaming and his attentiveness were merely symptoms of his fear. Of his adoration.

“Hubert…” Ferdinand whispered, the name floating up between them.

Hubert turned away again, fully this time, his back to Ferdinand. He’d shown too much too quickly. “And now you're suffering for nothing.”

Ferdinand rose into a fit of coughs, enough to make Hubert glance over his shoulder to monitor him. “Not nothing,” he clarified, panting. “I did get one thing out of this.”

Hubert rolled his eyes, and began walking to the other side of the bed, back still towards Ferdinand. “What, pray tell, could you possibly have gained for sacrificing yourself for no reason?”

If Hubert had been looking, he would have seen a blush break out across Ferdinand’s face, even more noticeable against the backdrop of his paled and sickly skin. “Your attention.” Ferdinand coughed a bit before continuing. “Now I can wake up and see you right beside me.”

Hubert sighed. “Ferdinand...I was always watching you. I've never stopped watching you, not since the day we first met.”

“Heh, perhaps. But now you're not pretending otherwise.”

As Ferdinand worked through another round of coughs, Hubert sparing glances over his shoulder despite himself, Hubert thought about the words. How he never let Ferdinand too close, how he never let himself get too open. How, even now, he kept his back to Ferdinand despite the entirety of his attention being devoted to him.

Violently, he remembered his, _then you can understand how I am feeling_. That had revealed far more than he had intended. And when he had been honest with Ferdinand about spending hours at his bedside, distraught? Ferdinand had ways of forcing Hubert’s hand, forcing his honesty, even when he wasn’t prepared for it. Or perhaps that was merely because at this very moment, behind his back, Ferdinand was dying a rapid and painful death. 

Ferdinand’s coughs began to settle as Hubert mused aloud, “What does that say about me, that I can only be open with the one I love when you’re at death's doorstep?”

Shit.

Hubert stiffened, and _dared_ not look over his shoulder. Ferdinand surely couldn’t have caught that through his fit. Surely.

“Did you say…‘love’?”

_Shit._

Hubert began circling the bed again, pointedly ignoring the bright orange spilling over it. He tried to keep his voice even, to settle his quickening heart, as he paced. “You'll forget by the time you recover, after all, the antidote—”

“Love? You, you love me?” Ferdinand’s voice was light, breathless.

“The antidote is more violent than the poison,” Hubert continued, forcing the subject change. He would breeze past his error as easily as he breezed past Ferdinand’s bed. “Those who manage to take it and live suffer permanent memory loss. You can understand why it’s so attractive to spies: even if your target manages to live, they will not be able to—”

“No, stop.” Hubert stopped walking. “You truly mean that? You love me?”

Hubert grit his teeth. Ferdinand was forcing his hand again. He spun on his heel, at last facing Ferdinand. Ferdinand’s eyes caught his, trapping them in his sickly amber. _They should be so much brighter_.

Hubert raked a hand through his hair as he sighed. “I may as well be honest in your final hours. You will either be dead in the morning or have forgotten this completely, so, I suppose it is safe to tell you.”

“Come closer,” Ferdinand requested. Hubert had no choice but to oblige.

Ferdinand reached for him, and Hubert held his hand. It was deathly cold. “You, you…” 

“Love you, yes,” Hubert finished. He thought the word would hurt on its way out of him, like a sharp knife, but instead it was astoundingly soft. “Unfortunately. Painfully.” Ferdinand’s eyes were closer now, wide, searching, desperate. “Completely.”

The air felt different. Was it any different? Hubert had let slip his most dangerous secret, by accident, frivolously, like some sort of simpleton. Was it the exhaustion or the moonlight, or the way Ferdinand’s fingers felt in his hand, or the way his eyes looked to him as if seeing him for the first time? Were things different now? He hadn’t heard Ferdinand’s answer, but his touch was so gentle. Perhaps that was merely because Death hadn’t given him the strength for anything more.

Ferdinand shook his head slowly, the effort clear in his muscles. “And I am going to forget?”

“Yes, everything since the moment the Priscellium entered your veins. It's why this is a favorite poison of mine: it's efficient. In fact, you...you should be dead by now.”

Ferdinand tightened his grip on Hubert’s hand. “After hearing that you love me? There is no possible way I could die.”

Hubert inhaled sharply. Ferdinand’s answer.

This was surreal. Could it truly have been so simple all along? If he had been more honest with Ferdinand sooner, more honest with himself, could they have had more time?

 _Yes_ , Hubert realized with a jolt. If he had told Ferdinand about his immunity to the poison, he would have been safe. If Ferdinand’s answer all along were to be favorable, Hubert hadn’t needed to try and force down his distractions. And then he might have noticed the ambush before it was too late. If he had told him the truth, they could have had more than the last moments as Ferdinand stood knocking on Death’s door. They might have had a lifetime.

But as it were, Hubert’s secrets and suppression had cost him. Cost them both. Now, they would never have more than a few fond words and a moment of clarity. Ferdinand would be dead by morning.

“You can't defeat death with optimism,” Hubert chided, shaking his head. He stared at the floorboards, bleached in the moonlight.

“That sounds like a challenge,” Ferdinand declared. Hubert looked up and met his eyes. They had, beyond all reason, gotten _brighter_. The Priscellium was draining the color from his eyes, yet here they were, glowing like sparks of fire.

“Damn it, Ferdinand,” Hubert muttered lightly. Ferdinand smiled.

How did his eyes grow brighter, _again?_ They glowed as if Life itself was stuffing vitality back into him. As if Ferdinand was taking it back by force. He was always forcing Hubert’s hand, but that did not mean he could force Death’s hand as well.

But then again, Hubert mused, if anyone could defeat death with optimism, with determination, it would be Ferdinand von Aegir. Hubert had seen Priscellium take the lives of many victims. Not a one got better without the antidote. Why did the fire in Ferdinand’s eyes give him hope?

The sliver of the moon reached into the window, brightening the room. For the first time since the poison had claimed him, Ferdinand’s eyes outshined the moon.

“Hey,” Ferdinand began, squeezing Hubert’s hand a bit. His hand was warmer now, perhaps from being held. “When I recover...will you say that again?”

“'Damn it Ferdinand'? I'll say that as much as you wish.”

Ferdinand smiled. “No. When I am better, after I have forgotten, will you tell me that you love me again?”

Hubert couldn’t help a smile of his own. Light, gentle, affectionate. “Yes. If you live through this, I will tell you.”

Ferdinand reached for Hubert with his other hand, and Hubert caught it in his. Sure enough, it was deathly cold. The poison was making quick work of Ferdinand’s body. But his eyes were still so determined. Which would win? The inevitable omnipotence of mortality? Or Ferdinand’s stubbornness? Why was there even a question? Why did Ferdinand make him believe they might have a chance at a lifetime?

Something in Ferdinand shifted, his expression steeling into something Hubert wasn’t sure he’d seen before. It wasn’t a step closer to Death; more like another step along a line running parallel to it. The brightness in Ferdinand’s eyes was the same, yet the color reflected a deeper hue.

“Hubert, um...” he began, suddenly shy. A blush lit up his cheeks. “You said you are immune to the poison, yes? Completely?”

“Yes?” Hubert replied.

“Then would you...would you allow me a kiss?”

Ferdinand had never looked worse. His lips were bluish, his skin transparent, his eyes sunken in their sockets, his hair drenched in sweat. But he was also alive, and he was Ferdinand, and Hubert had wanted to kiss him for longer than he would admit.

Obsidian bangs stealing the moonlight from the window, he bent over Ferdinand and pressed their lips together. A soft moan released from Ferdinand, and then the shudder of a cough, and Hubert swallowed them both. Ferdinand’s hands reached up to Hubert’s face, chilling his cheeks, anchoring them. Ferdinand wished he could reach further, to comb his fingers through Hubert’s hair or brush them across his back, but his cheeks were all he could manage.

The kiss was not nearly enough. Ferdinand knew that it wouldn’t be when he asked for it. But it was his limit, his breathing was already so irregular and shallow. And his lips had gone so numb he couldn’t taste Hubert. It was a sad and hollow kiss, one that drew out sorrow from their hearts and passed it into their mouths. Neither were entirely sure if this was more of a first kiss, or more of a last one. If this was goodbye.

After too little time had passed, Hubert pulled away. Ferdinand wanted to insist he come back again, but he was too exhausted for anything other than a frown.

“I shall fetch Linhardt now,” Hubert said, breathless. Light. Ferdinand wasn’t sure if he was delighted or remorseful. “The poison will move slower through your blood if you are asleep.”

Ferdinand summoned his breath, gathered it and evened it as best he could, and held Hubert’s hand. “When next I awake, I will court you properly. We will go to the opera, or spend an afternoon in the marketplace perusing weapons, hand in hand.” His voice was thin and raspy, barely able to make out the words. He wanted to say so much more.

“That sounds lovely.”

Hubert brought Ferdinand’s hands up to his lips and kissed his knuckles. This kiss was a goodbye. Or, at the very least, a good night.

Hubert laid Ferdinand’s hand down on the bed, and walked to the door. He stayed in the threshold for a moment too long. He was afraid.

“Hubert,” Ferdinand called. Hubert looked over his shoulder. “I will see you tomorrow,” he announced, determination flaring in his eyes.

“You damned well better.”

As Ferdinand closed his eyes, Hubert prayed that would not be the last time he saw them.

**Author's Note:**

> I've always loved the "forced to confess" trope and "deathbed confessions", they just have such an angsty flavor of ~tension~. But as I was showing an early draft to one of my friends, she said, "you're really just gonna kill your gays like that?". I think the spirit of Ferdinand von Aegir reached into her throat and forced me to give him a chance at living. 
> 
> Special thanks to Elasmosaurus and Valiance for beta-ing this fic! Never really had betas before, and they were amazing. If you hate the ambiguous ending, you can blame them *throws the kind humans under the bus and runs away*


End file.
